Time Capsule: The Last Ten Years

Six days from now, I will load my shotgun and retreat to the bunker I built out back. On January 1st, when Y2K hits and the chaos ensues, I will be one of the few who has a year’s worth of food and enough batteries to power my discman for five-plus years, making it possible to listen endlessly to the awesome new song “All Star” by Smash Mouth-surely the last great song ever to be written- providing me a glimmer of hope in our soon to be bleak world.

I will be my own dentist. I will mend my own wounds. I will make potable my urine, like in the recent movie Waterworld-a movie that was entirely underappreciated and will someday surely be recognized for its cinematic genius.

I have Tang. Lots and lots of Tang. I’m not sure why I chose Tang, but I chose it. And there’s no going back now, for society will soon fall apart, and all soft drinks will most likely be gone. And when that happens I will have three-dozen canisters of Tang and one canister of Nestle Quick strawberry milk mix, just to change it up every once and a while.

I have stocked up on plenty of gasoline, as the national average price is an extremely affordable $1.22. For that matter, most things are affordable, like homes and titanium and underground bunker kits. With the DOW hitting 11,000 for the first time ever, it makes sense that it’s all downhill from here.

With the incoming technological meltdown, my job as a web designer will be pointless, so I quit. The World Wide Web looked to be just another fad anyway. Too bad. America Online was so cool. The internet was such a beacon of truth, but I guess the truth is obsolete when jets are falling out of the air and people are running around looting soft drinks from convenient stores.

I have cashed out the majority of my bank accounts, taking half with me and using the other half to purchase stock in Lehman Brothers. Because if there is one thing that can sustain the blow of a technological meltdown it is our stalwart banking system.

This sounds strange, but I really want it to happen. I don’t know why, but it’s like that feeling when you rent a car on a business trip and you really just want to crash it, because, hey, it’s an expensive rental car, and it would be cooler to beat the hell out of it than to just drive it. That’s what it feels like. And I think a lot of people feel that way. Especially my neighbor who just bought a bunch of monkey blood that he’s going to keep in the freezer in his garage because he thinks it will be incredibly valuable in the New World Order.

Here’s what’s convenient: I have a good sized bunker that I can now use for storage, an incredible water purifier, and a year’s worth of Tang. Glass. Half. Full.

Some years later…

October 25th, 2008:

Bunker = great investment. The DOW has dropped over 3,000 points over the last month and now eeeeeeverybody wants a bunker. We’ve got two wars and a global economic meltdown happening and now nobody seems to be laughing at “that Y2K freak with all the tang and toilet paper.” Well, well, well. Almost ten years later, after terrorism, hurricanes, global warming, and the disappearance of bees, it seems that nowadays, eeeeeeeverybody thinks a BUNKER might be a good idea. How ironic. Well, let me tell you: you snooze you lose. I’ve been waiting for the end of the world since I was born, my friend. I’m more prepared than a…

If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that this-is-it. This is the meltdown; the end of it all. As a self-proclaimed scholar of Nostradamus, I can tell you that all the signs are there. Go ahead, check it out. You can read all about it on the resurgent internet, which has once again become a beacon of truth for we End Timers.

It is game time. It’s going to be dog eat dog, survival of the fittest, and ever since I had gastric bypass surgery and took my family on Wife Swap I am feeling more fit than you could ever imagine. So here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m gonna get in my bunker. Have some tang. And emerge 14 months from now on December 25th, 2009, to receive the greatest Christmas gift of all: laughter! Laughter towards all you naysayers who thought “it’d all be ok soon enough.”

So when it all falls apart and you’re up to your elbows in ash and abandoned cars and debris and other images evoked in Tim LaHaye novels, don’t come knocking on my bunker door for help.

December 25th, 2009:

I have emerged. This is a little awkward.

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The Curator is an assemblage of original and found essays, poetry, reviews, quotations, image galleries, video, and other media in a continuing commitment to wrestle with all that is in culture, and to look toward all that ought to be in hope.